


The Lost Son

by Zoa



Series: The Reylo Tales: My Collection of Reylo One-Shots [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, F/M, Fluff, Short & Sweet, early 20th century, it's star wars version of ireland, might do something more with this at some point, the quiet man au no one asked for, we'll see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22548460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoa/pseuds/Zoa
Summary: Ben Solo returns to his ancestral home and finds his destiny
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: The Reylo Tales: My Collection of Reylo One-Shots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691227
Comments: 26
Kudos: 58





	The Lost Son

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by the movie "The Quiet Man" with John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara, one of my family's favorites and one we watch every year on St. Patrick's Day. It's a beautiful, romantic film and kinda yelled reylo to me so I had to do an au. I hope y'all enjoy and definitely go watch the film! It's so good!

The train rolled into the station with a groan and a heave, as if it too was tired of the long journey from Coruscant City to the Naboo countryside. Ben shook himself awake and wiped the sleep from his eyes to peer into the misty morning on the other side of the train window. The station - if it could be called that as it was nothing more than a platform with a tin roof - appeared to him from out of the fog exactly how he remembered it. He suspected the rest of Chandrila was the same: unchanged even in the twenty years he’d been away. 

When he exited the train, his only luggage a sleeping bag filled with all the belongings he cared to take with him, he made for the taxi stop on the other side of the platform. As he suspected, there was no line of waiting automobiles. Only a horse and wagon with a dozing driver. The green wagon was clean and the horse looked healthy. But of course it would be, considering who the owner was. 

“Hey, I need a ride to Chandrila village,” Ben announced loudly, delighting a little too much in how the driver of the wagon jumped. The old man turned round and surveyed Ben from under white, bushy brows. 

“Hello stranger,” the old man greeted, his voice as gnarled as the fingers that lifted his cap from his bald head. “Aye, I can take you there. Hop on. Just lay yer… whatever that is…” he gestured to the sleeping bag, “in the bed.”

Ben’s mouth twitched as he obeyed then swung himself up onto the seat beside the driver. The old man clicked his tongue and snapped the reins. There was silence for awhile - a good ten minutes in Ben’s reckoning - filled with furtive glances from the old man. 

When it happened a fourth time Ben met the man’s gaze with an amused look of his own. Flustered at being caught, the old man cleared his throat and focused on the dirt road they were plodding down. Ben counted down the seconds to when the driver would break and ask the question he obviously wanted to ask. 

“Have I seen ya before? Ya seem familiar but I can’t place yer face…"

Ben repressed a grin and gave a nod. “I’m disappointed, Lor, considering you used to wipe my bloody nose whenever Poe and I got into fights outside the school.”

The old man pulled hard on the reins and stared at Ben with a deep scowl that lasted only a second before recognition set in. 

“Young Ben Solo!” He exclaimed in delight. Tears sprang into the old man’s eyes and he took his cap off, holding it to his heart as he grinned at Ben. “I thought I’d never live to see the day… You’ve come home, then?” 

Emotion thickened Ben’s throat and he pat his old friend’s knee. “I have, Lor.” He looked around at the green fields sprinkled with low stone walls that surrounded them, so different from the iron jungle he’d come from. “I’m here to stay.”

****

The journey was filled with Lor regaling Ben with tales of Ben’s boyhood, reminding him of all the trouble he used to get in with Poe Dameron, who was known as the village troublemaker. 

“What’s Poe up to now?” Ben asked. Lor snorted and shook his head. 

“He’s the village priest now, if ya believe it. Now he rides me for how much I drink.” The old man grumbled, spitting off the side of the wagon. Ben could only stare, in utter shock that the boy who’d led him astray so many times was now the little town’s moral compass. 

“Poe? A priest?” He broke into uproarious laughter. “I _can’t_ wait!”

Lor chuckled and a few moments companionable silence followed before Ben held out a hand, gesturing for Lor to stop the wagon. 

Lor slowed the horse and looked at his passenger curiously. “What is it?”

Ben stood up and dropped from the wagon. “I recognize these woods… Poe and I used to run through here all the time. We were usually running from old man Hux.” 

“Humph! That ya did!” Lor barked out a laugh. “That old geezer never caught ya rascals!”

“No.” Ben leaned on the stone wall separating an emerald field from the road and looked out, seeing his younger self and Poe sprinting across, shouting with glee as they avoided Brendol Hux’s staff. “No, he didn’t.”

At that moment a wave of white rolled into his vision, emerging from a line of trees at the farthest end of the field. A giant dog bounded into view, barking and directing the herd of sheep toward whatever its destination was. Bleats filled the air as the herd complied, turning as one unit in the direction the dog sent them. 

A flash of a green deeper than the tall grass around them brought Ben’s attention back to the woodbine and his heart jumped to his throat when he saw the figure emerging from the shadow of the trees. 

Following her herd, the shepherdess used a long staff to simultaneous direct the sheep and support herself as she ran barefoot through the grassy field. Her brown hair was up in a three-bun style Ben hadn’t seen before. The green that had caught Ben’s eye turned out to be her skirt, which was pulled up to her knees and tucked into the waistband for ease of movement. The cream shirt she wore hung loosely over her slender frame. 

Ben could only stare at the vision in awe that such a creature could exist. She was young, maybe twenty; which explained why he had no memory of her from his childhood. A breeze stirred the grass and the girl paused, tilting her head as if she heard something. 

Then she turned and Ben stopped breathing. 

She was a yards away but Ben could still make out the green-brown of her eyes and the freckles highlighted by her tan complexion. It was obvious she spent a lot of time in the fields. 

For a few precious seconds she stared at him and he at her, their eyes locked. Ben had the spare thought that all sound and sight disappeared except for her, as if they were sharing a pocket of space outside of reality. But as soon as it happened it was over. The dog gave a howl and the girl stumbled back as she made to follow the cry. It seemed she was hesitating, as if she was as reluctant as he was for whatever was happening between them to cease. 

Nonetheless when the dog howled a second time, she turned her back on Ben and ran toward her herd, releasing Ben from the strange spell he’d fallen under in her presence. 

“Lor, was that real?” Ben clambered back up onto the wagon seat as he spoke, but kept his eyes on the now empty field, as if the vision he’d witnessed might return. “She couldn’t be.”

“Ah, ya better watch yourself boy,” Lor’s voice floated to him from the wagon in a warning tone. “She’s trouble, no mistake.”

Ben finally tore his gaze away from the field. “Who is she?”

“Rachel Hux. Brendol’s daughter. Goes by Rey these days.” 

“Rey… Wait, Brendol had a daughter?” Ben choked. “And she looks like that?” He pointed at the field. "She must have inherited her mother's looks." 

But Lor maintained a serious expression. “I’m serious, lad. She is bad news. Armitage took control of the family interests when Brendol passed a few years back. Including her. If ya know what’s good for yer, ye’ll forget all about her.”

The old man left his warning in the air and urged his horse on, but Ben was still focused on the field and the beautiful girl he’d seen running across it like Persephone celebrating the spring. 

Forget about her? She’d left an indelible mark on his soul. Ben would never be able to shake her from his memory. 

****

When Lor informed Ben that the Solo homestead was no in the possession of the wealthiest widow in Chandrila, Ben asked to visit her. He was set on getting the old place back, whatever the cost. He could afford it. 

But Lady Holdo was a tough nut to crack. 

“The land is not for sale, Mr. Solo,” she said flatly. He and Lor were standing before the stately woman where she sat behind a mahogany desk in a grand sitting room. Her home was a veritable manor house that Ben remembered coveting from his bedroom across the moor. 

Ben folded his hands behind his back, tipping his head in a respectful way but not in a manner that it could be mistaken for backing down. “Ma’am, Naberrie Cottage is my home,” he said. “A part of the Skywalker heritage…”

“Ah, the Skywalker heritage? And do you propose to build a shrine to that venerable family?” She queried mockingly. “Perhaps construct a memorial to all their exploits?”

A flush enflamed Ben’s cheeks and he pressed his mouth together. “No, ma’am. I just want to live there.” He glanced down and swallowed back a surge of emotion. “I think you knew my mother. She told me stories of this place when I started losing memory of it. Kept it alive for me. That cottage… this village… well, they've… they've become a kind of… another word for heaven to me.”

“Chandrila is no heaven, Benjamin,” Amilyn Holdo whispered. But when Ben raised his eyes he saw hers were filled with tears. “But I did know your mother. She was dear to me.” She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Alrigh-”

“SIR! You can’t go in there!” 

The three people turned in unison as the door to the room was pushed open and scarlet-haired, spitting image of his father Armitage Hux stalked into the room. His face was as red as his hair and his blue eyes flashed between Holdo and Ben in disbelief as he came to a stop beside the desk. 

“So it’s true!” He exclaimed. “You’re selling Naberrie Cottage! To this… this…” he looked Ben up and down with a snarl. “This stranger!”

“I’m hurt, Armie,” Ben quipped. “You don’t remember skipping rocks together? Although,” a half smile appeared on his face. “You tended to throw them at the ducks more than skip them.”

Pure hatred was directed at Ben but nothing Armitage Hux did or said could phase him. He’d seen hell. An irate farmer was nothing. 

“Amilyn, this is ridiculous!” Hux leaned on the desk. “You can’t sell to him! You and I have had an unofficial agreement for me to purchase the land at three thous-”

“Five thousand pounds.” 

Holdo gawked at Ben, obviously reeling at the price he’d offered for a piece of land Ben knew was worth less than the rocks that plagued its soil. Lor whistled and Hux’s face, if possible, reddened even more. 

“Five thousand and one!”

Ben kept his attention on Holdo. He wouldn’t give Hux anymore of his time. He had one goal and he wasn’t going to fail in achieving it. 

“Six thousand.”

“Six thousand and one!”

Tired, Ben decided to end the ridiculous bidding war once and for all. “Ten. Thousand. Pounds.”

Hux’s mouth closed with a satisfying snap and Ben allowed himself to smirk. That shut the bastard up. 

“Enough!” Holdo put up a hand. “Mr. Solo, you are, I think, the one person in the world with any right to that land. You may have it. For _five_ thousand pounds. I won’t have your mother haunting me in my sleep for taking more than I should.”

Ben blew out a breath. “Thank you, ma’am. But I’ll pay seven.” 

Holdo looked like she was about to protest but Ben gave a slight shake of his head and she relaxed with a sad smile. “I know that look. Alright. Seven it is.”

****

As the cottage he now owned was less than ready for living in and the evening was transitioning to night, Ben was convinced to stay with Lor. 

“But first,” the old man announced. “We get a pint!”

And so it was that Ben spent his first evening in Chandrila’s one and only pub, _Kanata’s_. He had to turn his body nearly sideways to squeeze sideways through the narrow doorways and when he entered the dark, smoky space that made up the bar he found himself instinctively ducking his head because of the low ceiling. 

“Maz!” Lor bellowed, right behind Ben. “A round of drinks! We’re celebrating tonight!” 

The five other occupants of the bar cheered and laughed. At the same time the smallest woman Ben had ever seen in his life popped up from behind the counter and eyed the two men from behind glasses that were disproportionately large for her frame. 

“Lor San Tekka. You can barely pay for your own drink much less a round! What are you on about?”

“A son of Chandrila has returned!” Lor clapped a hand on Ben’s back that almost pushed him forward. The old man was stronger than he looked. “Ben Solo! Han and Leia’s child!”

Maz leaned over the counter, peering at Ben with narrowed eyes. He wondered she could see anything in the dim room, but a second later she broke into joyful laughter and slapped the counter. 

“Ben Solo!” She crowed. “As I live and breathe! A round it is, then Lor! But heaven knows you won’t be paying for it. On the house!”

Stronger cheers erupted and everyone crowded around the bar. Ben found himself pushed up against the dark wood and a stout pushed into his hand. 

Someone struck up an accordion and a folk song that Ben remembered his mother singing to him filled the room and warmed his soul as well any draught could. 

Memories flashed through his mind of being in that pub, back when it was called Eisley’s Pub, brought there by his father when his mother wanted them both out of the house for awhile. He’d sit there, in the leather chair by the fire, and listen as his father told tall tales to his friends that everyone knew were false but loved all the same. Ben loved them too. He’d often fall asleep to them and wouldn’t wake until he was being placed in his own bed, his parents hovering over him with love in their eyes. 

Ben downed his dark beer in one go, trying to push down the lump in his throat and abate the stinging in his eyes. 

A livelier tune was struck up on the accordion, drawing Ben out of his memories and back into the present. Lor was making Maz laugh about something and the other drinkers were enjoying their free glasses of stout in a picture of gaiety Ben wouldn’t soon forget. 

****

Come Sunday the entire village knew that Naberrie Cottage had been stolen right from under Armitage Hux’s nose, and to no less than a prodigal son of Chandrila. 

Ben stood in church well aware of all the eyes that kept sneaking glances at him from the pews. He tried to keep his attention on Poe’s sermon, which was surprisingly good; he hadn’t expected his boyhood friend to have such a strong grasp of the Gospel.

Then again, Poe had received plenty of scoldings by his Bible-wielding grandmother so maybe the idea wasn’t that far fetched. 

After the sermon, the good reverend came up to Ben and clapped a hand on his shoulder with a strong grip and a grin. 

“Ben! How the hell are you?” 

The startled eyes of a dozen elder women turned in unison to stare at the outburst and Ben barked out a laugh. “I thought priests didn’t curse?” He said. 

Poe shrugged. “I’m a work in progress.”

Ben would have responded had he not seen a flash of hazel sweep past him. He twisted around to see Rachel Hux exiting the church. 

“Excuse me, Poe,” he muttered, already halfway toward the door. 

Outside Ben turned this way and that, searching for the woman who’d captivated him. Finally he spotted her on the other side of the churchyard, mounting a bicycle. He weaved his way through the meandering after-mass crowd, intent only to speak with her. 

Something - he wasn’t sure what - drew her attention to him and when their eyes met she seemed startled and dropped her rosary. 

Ben reached for them at the same time she did and their hands met in the briefest of touches before she ripped hers away. Her reaction didn’t bother him; he rose, the beads of her rosary piled in the palm of his hand.

“These are yours.”

Her beautiful face flushed; he hoped not from embarrassment. It wasn't her fault he was idiot who'd just stated the obvious. He pushed his palm forward so that she could take her rosary back. Rey stared at his palm for a few long seconds before she raised her hand. As her shaking fingers hovered over his palm, Ben dared not move - he didn’t even breathe. 

Slowly, she lowered her hand to pluck the rosary from his hand. He didn’t take his eyes off her face - there was so much to see. Her freckles were all the more charming up close. There was her pert nose, her lovely lips, the way some of her hair had fallen out of her three-bun style to put all of it in a frame worthy of any renaissance painting. 

He was so distracted he didn’t notice she’d taken the beads back. 

“Thank you.” Her voice was so low he almost didn’t hear her.

“You’re welcome.”

Her eyes darted up to his and widened. Damn, she was beautiful. Ben swallowed and felt as if all the air in his lungs had been knocked from his chest. 

“Ben!” 

Poe’s voice echoed across the yard and before Ben could say another word to her, Rey had shot off on her bicycle. Ben watched her go with what he knew must be a wistful expression. He didn’t look away until she rounded the corner and disappeared. 

“That’s a bad idea, Ben.” Poe appeared at his side. “A very, very bad idea.”

Ben sighed. “That’s what Lor said, too.”

There was a brief moment of quiet and then Poe laughed. “It might be a bad idea, but to see the look on Hux’s face if you marry his sister!”

****

Ben spent most of his Sunday in the village, finalizing things he needed for the cottage. Some farming equipment, chickens, a few rose bushels. His mother loved roses and had once had the loveliest garden in Chandrila. Maybe his wouldn’t be as beautiful, but it didn’t matter. It was for her. 

After his errands, Ben decided to spend a little time at Maz’s before heading to the cottage for his first night there. It would be uncomfortable and probably cold if the wind was any indication, but he didn’t see the need to spend another night at Lor's when he had a home waiting for him. 

He expected to see a shuttered up facade, windows and door locked tight. But that’s not what he found. Ben stopped short when he saw that the front door and the windows were wide open and there was smoke rising from the stone chimney. Instincts on high alert, he put his luggage down outside the faded green front door and stepped into the cottage. 

It wasn’t exactly how he remembered. Sheets covered old, probably rotted furniture, there was a stale, moldy smell to the living area, and dust covered most surfaces in a thick layer. 

Except the mantle above the fireplace. That was spotless and there was indeed a roaring fire beneath it warming the cottage. Ben stood still, barely breathing. He saw a duster and a broom laying haphazardly on the floor in the center of the room, as if he’d interrupted someone. Movement drew his eyes up to a dirty mirror on the opposite wall and he saw a flash of green reflected from behind him.

Whoever it was, they were behind the front door, which he’d left open. 

Ever so slowly, Ben turned and walked back the way he came until he was standing right next to the door. His hand was on the knob as if he were leaving, but instead of stepping through, he jumped back and slammed the door shut. 

Rey Hux yelped from where she was huddled against the wall. 

She was there. In his home. Apparently to clean it. 

Ben stared at her and she at him for a long moment before he approached. She didn’t move and he marveled that she allowed him to stand so close they almost touched. 

“Why are you here?” He asked, raising a hand to rest it on the wall beside her head. Rey’s eyes widened and she visibly swallowed. “Cleaning for me?”

“I-I was just trying to do the Christian thing…” she whispered. “Be a good neighbor…”

Instinct told Ben there was more to it than that and he wanted to know what. Her chest rose and fell with erratic breaths but she wasn’t frightened. He’d seen fear. This wasn’t it. This was… something else. 

A crack of thunder outside shook the tiny house and a foul wind forced the cottage’s door open, distracting Ben, and Rey darted beneath his arms, making for the entrance. Ben’s hand wrapped itself around her wrist before he even knew what he was doing and he pulled her against his chest, pinning her wrist to her back.

The girl sucked in a sharp breath and Ben would have immediately dropped her hand and released her except that her eyes flicked to his lips. She wasn’t afraid. Nor was she angry. He had the feeling that if she wanted him to stop, to let her go, she’d sure as hell tell him so. 

The wind continued to howl but that wasn’t the roaring that filled Ben’s ears nor was it the violence of the storm outside that caused his heart to race. Her body was flush against his, warm and supple, molding to him as if she were made for him. The faint light from the fire in the room was enough for him to see the rosy color blooming on her cheeks. 

“At least let me thank you,” he said, shocked by how hoarse his own voice was. “For your kindness.”

Ben lowered his head, his nose brushing against hers, and was rewarded with Rey lifting her chin, her lips parting in invitation. It was no more than a second later that his lips met hers in a fleeting touch, too gentle and quick to be considered a true kiss, but enough for Ben to know another’s lips would never satisfy him. 

When he raised his head her eyes were closed. She opened them to reveal the soft hazel was a mere rim around blown pupils. For a moment he could do nothing but stare into those eyes, which were evidently yearning for more. He had expected her to push him away for his boldness but was so shaken by what he saw instead that he released her and took a step backward, his fists curling at his sides. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Please, forg-”

There was no chance to finish his apology because she rushed forward and grasped his face in her hands before pressing her mouth to his in a hard, clumsy kiss that made him stumble backward. But as soon as he recovered from his initial shock Ben slid his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. He helped her find the pace and the kiss evolved from rough and awkward to slow and sweet. She was malleable and soft against him, letting him guide her and granting him entrance when he dared ask for it with his tongue. 

A heavenly moan greeted his ears and Ben curled his fingers into the skirts of Rey’s green dress - the color was made for her - as he searched for a better grip. Her hands slid over his shoulders as she lifted herself onto her toes but at the moment he thought their intentions were one and the same, Rey pulled away and ran for the door. Ben remained where she'd left him, his chest heaving and body wound like a spring. She paused at the entrance to the cottage and looked back at him. 

As she stood there, hair and dress whipped to and fro by the wind, lips and face reddened from his attentions, eyes bright, Ben swore he’d never seen a more beautiful sight. 

Then she smiled and he was proved wrong. 

She was gone a moment later, disappearing into the foul weather, and Ben was, once again, left in awe of her. 

There was a sense that fell over him, like a warm blanket on the coldest day, and Ben knew - deep, deep in his soul - that Rey was his future. He’d returned to Chandrila with the thought that his life was over - he would just fade away and live out his days alone. But now he realized his life had only just begun. 

For the first time in his sad existence, he was excited for his future. 


End file.
